Twisted
by duelpersonality
Summary: In which House comes to grips with himself and one or more of his co-workers. Eventual hurt/comfort, complete with tragic flashbacks! Yay. SLASH sorry I forgot to mention it earlier
1. Chapter 1: The Plot

Dr. Gregory House, self-styled diagnostics god, peers raptly through the glass wall of his latest patient's room. More specifically, his ice-chip gaze is locked firmly on one of his newest recruits as said hospital-bitch carries out the most boring aspects of patient care: talking to the new plague-bundle, doing routine tests, replacing the patient's comfortable street clothes with open-backed paper replicas, etc. He tells himself he's monitoring for quality assurance, but the happy little tingle in his pants proclaims him a liar. 

"I think I've seen this show before," Wilson says, sidling up next to his best and most annoying friend. "The crotchety protagonist moons over his love interest from afar, tricks said misguided youth into falling for him, then turns on the poor fool as soon as the relationship start to look too secure. The original was amazing; I'm not sure the sequel can live up to the hype."

"Really, you ought to be careful about how you throw around words like "**crotch**ety" when the person you're describing hasn't gotten any in three months."

"Three months!? Not even from a hired hand? Or hired… anything else? Isn't that about how long it's been since Chase quit?"

"That's how long it's been since _Cameron_ quit, thank you very much. Ever since she dyed her hair, it's been as if a part of me died, too. I've been in mourning for her luscious chocolate locks."

"And that's why you've turned your attentions to the significantly shorter chocolate locks of Lawrence Kutner?"

"Why does it have to be Kutner I'm eying? That chick in the bed is a real hotty, and soon, she'll need to get naked to put on her lovely tree-based dress. I'm counting down the minutes."

"That "hot chick" is nearly eighty, and there's no way she'll perform a strip tease, what with the broken hip that she sustained when she collapsed from unknown causes."

"Well, the wait'll make the payoff all the more worth-while."

"Why can't you admit that you find men attractive? No one could possibly find you any more repugnant than they already do, and everyone who hates you already has the much more defensible reason of your general personality. It's a win-win."

"Telling people you're into guys tends to keep the ladies at bay. It could seriously interfere with my sex life."

"You mean the one that doesn't currently exist? Try to admit, at least to yourself, that you have feelings for him. You know that kid adores you; why not try to find some happiness with him?"

House licks his lips as he watches Kutner walk toward the door, carefully balancing the specimen samples that he intends to bring to the lab.

"I think I will."


	2. Chapter 2: In Which the Die are Cast

"So, what could cause an otherwise-healthy octogenarian to collapse on her driveway?" Dr. House wheels on his minions and locks each of them with a scrutinizing stare. He waits for their hypotheses with very little hope for any inspired responses.

"The patient was recently put on Warfarin to reduce her risk of heart attack. She could have had a negative reaction to the medication. She's covered in bruises and she has swelling in her right arm," Thirteen offered.

"Old people bruise easy; she doesn't have any bruises that couldn't be explained by the fall. Try again."

"She might have overdosed on the blood thinners; taken a double dose to make up for one she missed, taken a dose twice because she forgot that she'd already had her daily fix."

"Damn it, Taub, I just told Thirteen that this wasn't a drug-related fall! I didn't hire the three of you to get the same idea three times!"

"The patient is too cognizant to have dementia-related forgetfulness, and her tox screen showed normal levels of Warfarin in her system. I'm thinking syncope; she's old, probably anemic, and when she got up from the porch swing, she got lightheaded and passed out," Kutner said with his usual stoner's drawl.

House turned and wrote "Syncope" on the board. "Finally, a plausible theory. The fainting was caused by fainting, lovely. What makes you think it's syncope?" House asked, still facing away.

Densely truthful, as always, Kutner replied, "It's the first thing I could think of that wasn't related to her pills."

House hit his head on the easel a few times before turning to face his assembled team. "Taub, go prove just how wrong your drug-theory is; re-run the tox panel, include illegal substances and commonly abused prescription meds. Thirteen, run an EKG and measure blood pressure and heart rate. Check for hypotension and long Q-T syndrome."

"If she is anemic, she could have a history of fainting like this. She could have sustained a concussion in an earlier fall." Foreman interjected.

"Fine, Foreman, check for that concussion, then put her on a stress test, then have Taub recheck her heart rate and blood pressure."

The Dream Team quickly rushed off to fulfill their designated tasks. Which left Kutner alone with one Gregory House.

"Why do you insist on making me regret hiring you?" House still hadn't looked at Kutner since issuing his orders, and the lack of face-to-face acknowledgement was making the young fellow uneasy.

"I. don't know what you mean…?"

"See? That, right there, is what I'm talking about. Why are you always so slow on the uptake? Why do your best ideas and insight always seem to surprise you more than anyone else?"

Kutner's eyes and mouth are wide, surprised and hurt. "I-" he gulps "I don't know? But if I'm so pathetic, why do you keep me around? Why didn't you fire me during the game?"

"I did fire you. You flipped your card and came back, as I recall." A small, secret smile has begun to tug at House's lips. "It was such a cocky, unexpected thing to do; I had to keep you around to see what you'd come up with next. That, and your idea was genius."

"So.. then.. You do want me?" A sort of puzzled bewilderment has taken over Kutner's features.

"Dead on." House limps closer to his new recruit and sits leaning against the board room table. "I keep you around because you think differently. You see things that _no one else_ sees; you think up possibilities that no one on the team would've come up with! And, more to the point," For the first time since the rest of the team left, House's glacial eyes focus squarely and intensely on Kutner's earth-brown pair. "I do want you. But not particularly for your mind."

"Uh."

"Which is, apparently, a good thing." House leans closer. "Because it's just frozen up." An inch or less away. "Hasn't it?" And, suddenly, Kutner's trying to make sense of House's smirking mouth crushed against his own.

--

Author's Ramblings; turn back if you want to avoid my useless talking, basically, to myself.

So, it's been an age since I last touched this fic, and I'm rather ashamed of that. Particularly since this chapter was pretty much written by the time I posted the first. But, whatever. I couldn't figure out why House would be treating a woman that old who fainted. It's pretty obviously a stroke or anemia brought on by blood thinners. But, I'd already done all this research, so, of course, I wanted to use it. That's not the problem, the problem was that I was having trouble with Kutner's dialogue. I don't do cloudy-eyed stoner optimism nearly as well as pain-ridden cynical sarcasm. It's just so much harder to relate to Kutner, for me. We'll see how this goes. I have the whole story more or less planned out; it's only a matter of making the storyboard characters move and talk. So, again, we'll see.

Until next time, whenever that may be…

duelpersonality


	3. Chapter 3: So, How Far Did They Go?

"You seem cheery today. Either you've solved your patient's case, or—dare I say it—you've gotten over yourself and confessed your feelings to Kutner. So, which is it?"

"Both and neither. The old chick is old; that's what's wrong with her... What a slow week."

"We both know that that's not the answer I'm interested in-"

"What, Dr. James Wilson, bleeding heart extraordinaire, doesn't care about the health of a patient? I, personally, am shocked and appalled. My image of you is forever tarnished."

"I apologize for my humanity. Now, _did you talk to Kutner_?"

"Talk is.. such a strong word. And anyway, actions speak louder."

"House, you didn't." Brief, frenetic gestures. "Did you?" Wilson stares at House with doe's eyes wide, less in shock than in a sort of 'oh-god-what-have-I-done' horror.

"I'm not sure. I'll have to find an Outrage-to-English dictionary before I can be sure what I'm admitting to." House knows what Wilson means, of course; it's so obvious. But two can play 'beat around the bush,' and House is better at it.

"_House!" _Wilson slams his palms on House's desk, "_Did. You. Sleep. With. Lawrence Kutner_!?" A rare show of frustration? Anger? Could Wilson care so much about the possibility of House having sex with one of his fellows? After he specifically said that House _should_?

"Why are you so upset, Wilson? Afraid that you'll be replaced? Don't worry, there'll always be room on my right shoulder reserved just for you."

"You and I both know that you get rid of anyone who will have sex with you that early in a relationship. Look at what happened with Cameron!"

"Although Chase seemed to find that part of her personality sexy."

"The point is, anyone who'll give in that easily is too… well… easy. You like things difficult, God knows why."

"Thrill of the chase, conquering the unconquerable, who knows?"

"Yes, well… That's not the point! Answer the damn question!"

"You're no fun. Fine, I, Gregory House, did not have sex with Lawrence Kutner last night or any other night."

"Oh, thank God." Wilson sighs, hand over his eyes, and the tension seeps out of him. He collapses with boneless relief onto House's couch.

"But we did some pretty heavy making-out right about where you're sitting. Did we clean it all up, do you notice any sticky places?"

Wilson rockets up from the couch like it's on fire, and fixes House with his "I-don't-want-to-believe-you-but-I've-known-you-too-long-to-hope" look. His mouth flaps open and shut, but no sound does he make.

"I told him how I felt. I kissed him. He gave me a look very similar to the one you're making—which is hilarious, by the way—and I left."

Wilson pulls himself together, feeling significantly calmer about the whole situation. "That's it?"

"That's it. Cross my heart."

"And how did he react?"

"I just told you. Shock, awe, ambivalence, confusion, unbridled joy. You know, all but the "unbridled joy" part."

"But did he give any indication of how he felt about it, positive or negative?"

"He didn't pull away, but he didn't kiss back. That is the _definition _of ambivalence."

Wilson nods. Finally, a plausible, not wholly deplorable explanation.

"Well… That's good, then. Isn't it?"

"I guess it's not _bad_, per se. Come on, my Cuddy-sense is tingling, and I haven't logged any clinic hours this week." House stands and limps toward the door.

"House, it's _Sunday. _This week is_ over_."

Wilson follows House out of his office.

"That's how I know she'll be looking for me."

The two head companionably down the hallway, presumably away from Cuddy.

"You're a real jerk, do you know that?"

"A few people may have mentioned the fact once or twice before. Although, usually it's "bastard" or "asshole," but I suppose "jerk" is about as good as anything."

They both know that House wants to know Wilson's opinion of what to do next. They also know that House is too stubborn to ask. The two continue down the hall in a somewhat easy sort of silence.

--

Author's notes, again, but this time they're somewhat pertinent to the story.

So, then, a good turn-around. Especially compared to the length of time between my last two chapters. To the point, my grasp of Kutner is not great, mostly because he's such a new character. I hope to get a 

copy of season four next weekend, and I probably won't go through with posting anything I might write from now to then until I can watch a few episodes of season four to refresh my impressions of him. Or, I could watch White Castle and Epic Movie. He's nearly the same person in all three roles, so it should be fine. Before I forget;

Thanks to the following for their kind reviews:

Nikki: Thanks for being my first review for this story. It made me pretty happy, in a smug sort of way (see, I knew I could write). I love the show, in part, because I enjoy the easy back-and-forth so much. This chapter is, in part dedicated to you. It's for all of the people who read and enjoyed it, but the biggest piece is for you.

M: I'm glad that you like my characterizations of the characters. I hate when characters are unintentionally OOC, you know? If I screw up, feel free to let me know.

DejiDenja: Thanks for your vote of confidence. I'm glad that you like it, and I'm especially glad that you liked it enough to tell me so.

Additionally, thanks to everyone who strolled through this story yesterday. I had over 180 hits from 109 separate people (the most ever for me), and I'm very grateful to every one of those 109 readers.

I hope to be back next weekend, see you then


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